


Bedtime Story

by WittyWritter96



Series: Many Moons Ago [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 07:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6186550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WittyWritter96/pseuds/WittyWritter96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little boy is sick and his mother tells a bedtime story about her past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime Story

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! The short story I had to write for class. It can be read alone but the other works in this series has background to this.

“Mom, what does my name mean?” The little boy coughed, sweat dripping from his light brown skin as he laid in his small bed. The dark blue sheets were damp even though a small fan in the corner of the messy room was running and the window was wide open to let in the brisk wind with blue curtains pulled to the side. Toys of all shapes and sizes were strewed all over the floor among the many potted plants that made the room their home. The walls were painted a light blue to match a early morning sky and the floor was a rich soil brown, his mother’s favorite color. The room was dark but smelled of sickness and sweat as the older woman paused at the open dark, wood door. She smiled gently as she slowly sat down on the edge of the child’s bed, her bark-colored hands shaking.

“Obi means ‘heart’ in Igbo because you are my little heart, sweetie.” The woman stroked Obi’s forehead, wiping away the sweat that plastered his thin dark brown hair to his skin and moved to place the cool washcloth on his forehead once again. He coughed again and her heart lurched.

“What about your name?” He opened his light brown eyes, so common yet so extraordinary but was currently glazed with fever. A bird could be heard through the open window as it sang to its brethren underneath the full moon and night sky. She chuckled softly at her child’s constant questioning and wondered where this burst of energy came from.

“Ayana means ‘beautiful flower’ in Ethiopian. I thought it appropriate because of my certain talents. Why are you oh so curious about names all of the sudden?” At either side of the bed rested tall Areca Palm plants, standing on their own in traditional African pots, and were slightly leaning to each other that made a dome above the resting child.

“Everyone kept saying you named me after a TV character but you don’t watch TV.” Obi coughed again but was slowly dozing off, his brown eyes struggling to stay open. All of the plants in the room trembled in worry and leaned further toward the bed. The Madagascar Dragon Tree that sat near the window twisted its branches together, rambling and asking questions every few minutes about Obi’s health. From one of the three hanging pots at the end of the room, the Warneck Dracaena was attempting to shush the aloe and convince the honeysuckle not to grow out all the way to bed. The white Peace lilies were currently hugging each other from their spots near the door, slightly panicking despite the lavender that sat the desk talking to them saying everything was going to okay.

Ayana sighed but didn’t move her eyes away from the now sleeping child, who didn’t stay awake long enough for her to reply. To the little boy, the room was completely silent with only the brief song of a bird that would fly past. This was not true for the woman, however. All her long life, she had never known what silence was because every moment of everyday, nature talked to her. She listens. She replies. The cycle continues. Every plant, flower, and blade of grass had something to say and she always listened, no matter how silly or brief the conversation may be.

None of the plants, however, were up for pleasant conversation. The cabin was not small in any regards but it wasn’t large either. It was the perfect home for a woman, her adopted child, and the hundreds of types of plants and flowers that grew in every space available, most of which are now silent with worry. Ayana could feel every single plant in and outside the home worry for Obi, all of them willing to do anything to help the sick child. She smiled softly as she listened to the lavender, named Lav, talking ever so softly to keep the others calm. Her smile fell when she reached the kitchen, yellow walls barely visible under the countless vines falling from the hanging plants above and attached themselves to the wall. The mahogany wood floor was spotless, kept clean at all times due to Obi being very picky as to where dirt can be. Sometimes, his stubbornness reminds her of someone from the past with blinding white hair that blended with their pale skin. Their hesitant smile when they look in her direction but their foggy eyes never meeting hers.

Ayana’s breath hitched when one of the honeysuckles vines caressed her arm, pulling her mind away from painful memories back to the present. She whispered a thank you and busied herself with making a pot of peppermint and yarrow tea with some honey mixed in to aid with the bitter taste. Obi won’t like it, especially after just waking up, but it will help with bringing his fever down and hopefully make him feel better sooner. Neither plant gave any objections to part of them being used for tea, actually offering it up to Ayana before she spoke a word. She whispered thank you and stroked each of them gently on their leaves, before fetching the whistling kettle from the stove. Letting the tea brew for a few minutes, she pulled out Obi’s favorite mug with Batman crudely painted on it and a tea leaf strainer. Placing the pot and the cup with the strainer on top it on a maple wood tray and headed back to Obi’s room.

By the time she reached his bedroom door, the coughing started and every plant visibly shivered with worry. Taking a deep breath, she softly asked a vine of Jasmine that framed the door to open the door for her, tiny white flowers and deep red buds nodding before two parts of the vine moved to twist the black metal doorknob. Thanking the plant on her way into the room, Obi shifted as he woke, coughing again when Ayana sat the tray on a nightstand in the corner of the room.

“How are you feeling, my little heart?” The mother stroked his damp forehead, hissing at the intense heat in his skin. Unfocused honey colored eyes blinked open and the child shook his head slightly, coughing as he did. The ferns above him swayed in an attempt to cool down skin and whispered reassurance even though the only one who could hear it was Ayane. The surrounding plants told Ayana what had happened the past fifteen minutes, although it was just the child unsuccessfully sleeping. Stroking Obi’s forehead, among all the chatter and panicking, she heard the Lav ask for a story.

“Would you like a story? To help you sleep.” His eyes immediately brightened up, nodding as much as he could without coughing as every plant in the house yelled in agreement. Chuckling softly, she rose to pour a cup of tea. She froze mid-pour when one of the older plants in her room down the hall spoke.

[Tell him about Light.] Questions upon questions came crashing down her while a small sound of confusion came from Obi. Picking up the half-filled mug, she sat down next to Obi again and gave him the mug. Memories of the not so distant past tickled the back of her mind, a mix of happy and sorrow and tears ached to run down her cheeks. One of the ferns asked if she was okay but she only nodded and patted one of its leaves.

“Drink it slowly. It won’t taste good but it’ll help. Finish that and I’ll tell you about the time I met another Natural.” He curled his fingers around the warm mug, he took a sip of the tea and almost gaged. Looking up at his mother, the only person who has ever showed him what a family could be and never lied to him, he saw her dark eyebrow raise in challenge and he drank the rest of the bitter tea. He finished in ten minutes.

“There has been a common occurrence in this very long life I have and it’s war. Either its war between tribes, countries, or even the whole world. Ever since I walked away from my village, I walked and cherished every life upon the Earth. So, during the Second World War, I continued with my habit of walking through the war torn countries to heal the plants and help anyone I could. I believe it was near the end of the war when I was helping a family cross the border and hopefully onto a boat to America when the bombings happened. Back then, bombs were not as direct as the ones today. Pieces of metal went flying. Thankfully, none of it hit the family I was helping and as far as I know, they made it America. I, however, was hit directly in the knee and cut into my arms and legs. Before I lost control of my energy and the nature around me could react, I yelled at the family to run without me. They didn’t hesitate and I fell to the ground.” The small boy gasped, interrupting his mother’s tale. A visible shudder ran through all the plants at the same moment when before all of them had been still but are now upset at the pause. Obi mumbled sorry and Ayana chucked before she resumed her tale.

“The moment I touched the ground, blood and energy seeping into the dirt, thick wood branches burst through the dark soil and enveloped me like a cocoon. They were so very angry, Obi. Their anger and desperation to help me vibrated beneath my skin and left me breathless. They weaved together so tight like one of my baskets, blocking all light from my view. It seemed like hours as my conscious faded before I heard a voice muffled by the branches. I was helpless and weak. I couldn’t even call out for help. I blacked out when the sun hit my face through the opening branches. Later, I was told all the plants in the area when I lost control of my energy carried me all the way to this man’s house on the border of India and Pakistan. If I remember correctly, we were originally in Turkey.” The little boy gasped again and seemed to mouth the word ‘whoa’ and the plants ruffled their leaves in agreement. The woman chuckled at the echo of that one word throughout the house.

“Should I finish the story tomorrow? It is pretty late and you should rest…” She trailed off as a loud noise of protest rose from every listener, some plants forming ‘NO’ with their leaves and steams. Ayana laughed and quieted everyone down with a slight movement of her hand.

“Fine, fine. I’ll continue. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. India. Now, as I was saying, the man who found had walked a very long way with huge moving plants carrying me behind them. I have no idea how we were not stopped or how I didn’t die on the way there, but when I woke up, I was laying on a soft thick comforter with a warm cotton blanket covering me. Almost every part of body was covered in bandages and ached. For the next month, I was cared for a young adult man with old foggy grey eyes. The only name he went by was Light. He was the first and last Natural of light.” Memories of their time together flowed through her mind. Days of growing his favorite flowers to making a special walking stick made of wood that she infused her energy so he would be able to see through the energy. Other days of watching him bend the light around them and hearing him describe how energy flowed through everything. Her heart ached for the past but there was nothing she could have done. He had made his decision and she made a promise.

“What happened next, Mommy?” Ayana snapped out of her thoughts, her pause in the story too long for any of the listeners. She shushed him and the plants as she petted his soft brown hair.

“I stayed with him for a couple years, just us and nature surrounding his small home. We took care of each other and were comfortable just staying where we were. But, he died. It was his time and he needed to move on. Now, don’t cry, sweet one, I’ve accepted it and moved on. My knee isn’t what it used to be but without his help, I would have died. Do you remember what I always say about my scars?” The boy’s eyes were wide and some of the plants raised their leaves in the air, as if raising their hand to be called on by the teacher.

“Your skin is the night sky and every scar is a comet with a memory attached.” All the plants that raised their leaves drooped in sync, disappointed at not having a chance to answer. The mother and her child soon laughed at the plants antics, Obi soon yawning while rubbing his eyes. Feeling his forehead again, Ayana sighed in relief when it felt a lot cooler than before.

“Exactly. That’s why I am never ashamed of my comets or the way I walk. Neither should you, my little heart, because life is worth living without shame and regrets. Can you promise me that? To never let anything stop you in your life as you make your mark on the world?” Obi nodded, his eyes drooping with a small smile. Every plant awed and followed his example. One of one, each leaf, flower, and bud became still and the voices became silent with only the occasional mumble or whisper.

Ayana just sat there for a few moments, taking in the peace around her and smiled. Memories still ran through her mind as she took the tray back to the kitchen and cleaned the dishes. Minutes later, she was in her own room, dark green vines blending with the dark green walls and dirt invisible on the dark wood floors. She stood there, in the middle of the plant and book filled room. Stacks of books broke up the clusters of vines along the walls and every flower bloomed, no matter the season. She smiled and the ache in her chest eased. 


End file.
